


Our Lady's Tale

by Wintryone



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Drama, Multi, Nature, myth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-14 09:30:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/835389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wintryone/pseuds/Wintryone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of Witherfang and Swiftrunner, as told from the POV of the Lady of the Forest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this story was a gift to me from Fenzev. Thank you, my friend :)
> 
>  
> 
> This is my first Origins story. I hope you enjoy it :)

 I remember being born.

 I was...

A whisper on the breeze...

Glistening raindrops on a spider's web...

Roots reaching down into the loamy soil...

A suckling fawn...

The panpipe song of the woodthrush...

A blossom opening in dawn's golden light...

I was all of these things, and many more, yet I was not me. I was not aware of myself as separate from the life of the forest.

 It was Zathrian who made me who I am. It was he who called me forth from the forest's soul and made me whole. Was it a boon? Or a curse? Hear my tale and decide.

 

• ~ • ~ • ~ •

 

Can something be good and beautiful when the motivation for its being is hatred and revenge? I have asked myself this many times over the long years. If not for a terrible act of violence, Zathrian would never have made me. The elvhen Keeper saw me as nothing more than a weapon, my only purpose to enact justice against those who had harmed his family - men who had murdered his son and raped his precious daughter.

He bound my infant soul to the body of a great white wolf, and although I was not the first to be called werewolf, I surpassed them all in strength, in cunning and in beauty. Never before had there existed a creature such as me, and I set to my purpose with unfettered abandon.

Wild and free, blood pumping through my veins, with teeth and claws I hunted the wicked men, and none could withstand me. In my frenzy, some I left for corpses had not died at all. They had been infected by my bite, their nature transformed into something not quite wolf, and not at all human. I found them lost and confused, and I gathered them to me and made them my pack.

Yes, werewolves they called us, and for a time we razed through the forest like a plague of locusts over a field of wheat. Devouring all who crossed our paths, caring for nothing but the blood-lust that consumed our souls. I will not lie to you, I reveled in this unrestrained life - caring nothing for consequence, fulfilling the role for which I had been created, long past the time for which revenge was due. Few who are born into life are so free, and fewer still are strong enough to survive such freedom.

Many of my new kindred died from Zathrian's curse. Many more were slaughtered by the humans, who rightly feared us.

I remember the day clearly, when a great sadness first filled my heart. I had stopped by a clear stream, running noisily down from the mountains. A great thirst was upon me, and I bent my muzzle to the cold water to drink.

I saw my face that day, covered in blood and gore. I saw my eyes, and a madness lit their depths. I left my pack, my brethren, and retreated into the dark, hidden places where no creatures dwelt. For years uncounted, I remained alone and remade myself into the Lady.

 

• ~ • ~ • ~ •

 

There are paths in the deep forest, made by unknown creatures in eons past. Some say they were created by the great dragons, in a time before human knowledge, when those majestic creatures ruled the world. I would not call it memory as people would understand it, but in my mind's eye I see them yet. Their vast wings seemed to stretch to the horizon as they flew low over the forest, their jeweled bellies tickled by the leaves of the towering oaks. Their piercing cries echoed longingly through the hills and valleys that were once my body.

The legends may be true, for the broad lanes I followed led to the very roots of Dragon's Peak. There I found shelter in a place abandoned by the gentler animals of the Brecilian Forest. Those that lurked there had no more want of company than myself, and I was left alone with my misery and heartache.

During my reign of terror over the humans, even as I had given myself over to the hunt and the kill without reserve, a bitter seed had been planted in my heart, and was flourishing in the loathsome ground within me. I nurtured that seed with self hatred. The mirrored image of my bloody muzzle was my constant companion throughout the endless days and nights.

I fell into dark dreams, plagued by the screams of those who I had murdered so violently. In these nightmares, I gorged myself upon their torn flesh. Yet, always I hungered. Always, a ravenous thirst for the coppery taste of blood drove me mad with desire.

Each time I awoke, my fur and hide hung ever more loosely from my bones. My body was dying, and I welcomed that sweet release of a return into oblivion. Consciousness was a sickness, an insanity, and I wanted no part if it. Each tortuous moment I endured, I was glad for, because it was what I deserved, this I knew.

I cannot tell you how much time passed as I existed in this lowly state. A frigid stream, which tasted of iron provided my only sustenance. I ate nothing. No matter the vicious cramps that tore through my empty belly, I would kill no longer.

To this day I do not know if I was dreaming or awake when she came to me. She was more beautiful than any being I had ever seen. With hair as dark as midnight, and skin the pale grey-blue of the sky shimmering under a full moon. Her arms and legs were wound with delicate roots, as if she were the daughter of a tree. She spoke to me, but I did not understand her words.

From that time forward she never left me, and her soothing voice began to calm the beast inside me. Perhaps it was that her speech eventually broke through my pain, or perhaps it was a magic that exists only in the wild places of the world, but one night, at last, I understood her.

For time unmeasured she had only spoken three simple words.

"I am you."

 

• ~ • ~ • ~ •

 

Words have power.

True words have greater power still.

Zathrian's curse had bound me into form, but it was a wretched state that knew only pain and anguish. Yet bound I was, and only death would release me.

The Lady's words, "I am you," were my first taste of kindness. Her gentle hand upon my head as she spoke them, was more nourishing than food or water.

Do you see what was truly killing me?

At first, I had no comprehension of her meaning. How could two separate beings exist as one? Yet she insisted, with her soft smiles and sweet caresses, that it was true, and I only need trust her to understand.

I found that the Lady could understand my thoughts; though no words were spoken when she told me I must eat or perish, she heard my response, "I will not kill again."

"Death and life are not separate things," the Lady told me. "They are intertwined in existence, and both must be." She pressed a soft kiss between my eyes. "Allow me within you, and I will show you."

Within me.

Why would someone as pure and lovely as the Lady wish to enter the nightmare that was inside of me? I whimpered in my throat and shook my head to warn her away.

"Ah, my sweet Witherfang," she sighed. "Will you not trust me?"

Witherfang. The name I did not know was mine until the sound left her lips.

I met her kindly gaze with my own fearful one. In the depths of her eyes I saw a promise of release from my agony. In their mirrored pools I saw tenderness that embraced my torment and melted it away like frost under a warming sun.

Yes, I trusted her. She need not ask again, because the answer was there in my own eyes for her to see.

My vision became a nebulous thing as she wrapped me in her arms. A tremendous heat began to build in the core of my being, and quickly spread into my weakened limbs. I could no longer stand and stumbled to my haunches, trembling with sudden fever. A piteous cry broke from my throat as I called to the Lady for help... but she was no longer there.

"I am here," her voice whispered in my mind. "I am you."

And she was. What had been a heat beyond bearing, was now a warmth that soothed my ruptured soul. What had been unbearable was transformed into the smallest seed of... hope.

I lifted myself from ground, and even in my pitiable state, I found I could walk once again.

Under her mild direction, I left my self-imposed prison and set my feet upon the forest paths, beginning the slow journey back into life. Without the Lady, I could not have gone very far. She kept me moving when I would have laid down in the damp leaves and surrendered to my fate: To decompose among the other detritus and provide new life for the forest.

Yet, as one, we knew I must have sustenance soon or I would surely die.

 

• ~ • ~ • ~ •

 

In many ways, the next few years were the true beginning of my existence. Slowly, yet ever so surely, I took up my rightful place among the life of the forest.

The Lady became my teacher, her lessons a reminder of what I was before Zathrian made me Witherfang. I learned the language of the deep night and the broad day, and the patterns of sun, wind, and rain. I was cleansed under her tutelage; body, mind and soul.

At times the Lady moved and breathed within me, at others we remained separate. Often she would ride upon my back as I loped through the shaded paths, delighting in the joys of freedom from care and want.

The mystery, the balance of life and death, revealed itself to me. My wild brothers and sisters showed me there could be honor in sacrifice. There could be death that suffered no pain, and yet could hold deep meaning and renew life.

Life... It became such a wondrous thing as I reveled in the dappled landscape of the deep woods. Once again, I remembered the sensations I'd forgotten since my terrible birth.

I was clear, cold water tumbling and splashing over rocks into a deep pool.

I was a sweet apple tree in blossom, caressed by butterfly wings and the soft hum of honey bees gathering pollen.

I was a serpent, slithering through the high grass, searching for the warming sun.

I was a sparrow, a fat spider in my mouth as I winged my way back to my fledglings with their evening meal.

As these visceral memories filled my heart and my mind, I grew strong. I thrived under the Lady's gentle hand.

One bright morning, just as the first hints of color touched the edges of the birch and the hawthorn leaves, the Lady came to sit before me on the mossy ground.

"My sweet Witherfang," she said. "There is one last thing for you to learn."

In the soft light of dawn, the Lady taught me how to enter within her, to be a part of her beauty and her grace.

For the first time, I walked upon two legs, and it was glorious.

Although the lady was no more human than I, she was graced with the most beautiful of human forms. Yet, in the wild places, that held little meaning for me. It was the graceful ease of movement, the ability to pluck a rose from its thorny stem, or cup water in my hands, that was such a miracle to me.

Within her, I could climb the highest trees, and we did so, viewing the canopy from a tall oak many hundreds of years old. While settled on its sturdy branches, I thought I heard a gentle murmuring in a language I did not understand. The Lady laughed and told me this was so: all creatures have their own language, be they flora or fauna. I began to listen more closely as we traversed the tangled woods and the open fens, and my understanding deepened with my attention.

All things move in cycles and season. From birth to growth, to decay... to death. So too did those halcyon days come to an end. Together we passed countless nights under the cold winter stars, and unending days under the bright light of the sun, with only the innocent life of the forest as our companions.

My third life began when they came to the woods, and again, I was forever changed.

 

• ~ • ~ • ~ •

 

I have often wondered at my fate, had not the Lady and I joined as one. By the time the Dalish tribe returned to the forest, we had spent many a long year together in my wolf form, or within her graceful beauty. Such was our rapport, that those who later heard our legend called us shapeshifter. I suppose that was true in some sense, as we took her shape or mine, as the occasion demanded.

The Dalish were led by Zathrian, of course. His long life extended by the curse he had so cruelly inflicted upon me. Yet, under the Lady's influence, I had long ago released my bitter hatred, and only sought peace within myself, and with all whom I met. You will not blame me that I did not seek out the elvhen tribe myself, as I believed that wound was best left closed.

And so it might have remained, except for those who followed, seeking Zathrian to enact their long-held vengeance upon him. Those who had once been my pack had not all perished, as I had feared. Some had survived, and their progeny had become some of the fiercest werewolves the land had ever seen.

At their head was one called Swiftrunner - a strong and noble beast in his heart, yet he was ensnared in the egregious trap of retribution, as once I had been. He led his pack against the elves, murdering many, and transforming others into their own kind - a hideously painful process none should ever endure.

At first, I did not interfere. Could I judge others for what had consumed me for so long? Perhaps I would have remained a silent and watchful observer, but for the pain and suffering among elves and werewolves alike. What astounded me most was that Zathrian did nothing, and I began to see the trap he had set for himself.

Our thoughts blending and melding as one, The Lady and I began to follow Swiftrunner, in hopes of finding him alone. I remembered all too well that when one runs with a pack, the lust for blood overwhelms all reason, and I would be forced to kill or die should I confront them. A choice I did not wish to make.

It was a warm night in early spring, a full moon, fat and orange, rose in the east over the still leafless trees. Snakelike ribbons of mist hovered above the gentle stream that was near to the werewolves den, and a barred owl's song echoed hauntingly through the wooded landscape. We approached the den, having chosen Lady instead of Wolf, hopeful that this would engender curiosity from Swiftrunner, rather than aggression.

The glade was silent, and no life stirred. We had been here before, and knew that the long gash in the rockface was the entrance to a series of deep caverns. A good place for werewolves to hide, though I doubt they appreciated the beauty of the ancient ruins they now inhabited.

We sat on a fallen log and waited for Swiftrunner to emerge into the night.


	2. Chapter 2

Whereas my own form as Witherfang was more truly a wolf, Swiftrunner had the look of most others of his kind. He was tall, broad of shoulder and narrow of hip, with a slight backward bend to his legs when standing upright. His fur was thick, and blended in shades of mottled brown, yet his chest was nearly bare, and the muscles there shifted and flexed as he emerged from the caverns and out into the moonlit night.

Immediately, his dark nose began to twitch, no doubt because he caught my scent before he saw me. I slowly rose from the log, and held out one hand in a gesture of peace.

A feral growl escaped his throat, though he did not approach. Instead, he called out, "What manner of creature are you?"

His full, dark brow was lowered, and he clenched and unclenched his long fingers, the sharp claws at the tips glistening in the pale yellow light.

I had thought carefully on what I would say, given the chance. In the form of the Lady, I was a female, soft and gentle. As the Lady, I was not a threat which he knew.

"You may call me  _Lady_ ," I told him gently. "I would speak with you, if you will hear me."

"Words!" he spat. "What good are words in the face this benighted state?" Another low growl arose from his throat. "Unless your words can break the curse that binds me, they are of no use here. Begone, Lady!"

It was a risk to approach him, yet the choice had already been made. My careful, graceful steps made no sound upon the leaf-littered forest floor, and though Swiftrunner made no move, his stance became defensive.

"Did you not hear me?" he said. "Leave this place! Leave us to our misery."

I was less than a dozen feet from him, when I stopped. I could feel the calm peace radiating throughout from me, generated by the love that I had found within myself through my joining with the Lady.

"I would not do so," I gently spoke to Swiftrunner. "I would help you if I can."

A rumbling huff escaped the werewolf's throat, and even from where I stood, I could feel the heat of his breath on my face. His next words were low, insistent. "If you stay, you choose your death."

I smiled, and that deep love moved through my heart as I spoke. "There is another choice," I said. "The choice of life, without pain." My stillness was so complete, so powerful, and it surely affected the beast standing before me. His shoulders dropped, and his clawed hands hung loosely at his side. "I ask you again, noble Swiftrunner, will you hear me?"

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

"I am the Lady of the Forest," I said. "Allow me to come among you. Allow me to ease your tortured souls."

"Why? Why would you help us?" He lifted up his head and howled to the full moon, before he continued. "We are murdering brutes, who care nothing for life."

All pretense of aggression was gone from him, and his agony was now there for me to plainly see.

"Because," I said, and took those last few steps between us. "I am you."

* * *

**Chapter 7: Chapter 7**

* * *

It was strange, offering to Swiftrunner the same boon that I had been offered during my deepest despair - the chance to heal and be reborn. The Lady and I were truly halves of the same whole, and together, we understood both the beauty and the terror of the wild. We were, after all, each of those things, merged and blended now, into a being of power that had no equal in the forest.

Perhaps Swiftrunner sensed that. Perhaps he, as I had once been, was filled with self-loathing and doubt. I did not, however, know his thoughts in that moment, because he simply turned and retreated back into the caverns.

I followed.

What were now caves of crumbling ruins, must have once been a place of grandeur and great beauty. Effigies of unknown gods were carved into the walls of the great hall through which we passed. The werewolf before me paid them no mind, however. He prowled through the stone and rubble with his head down, unerringly moving lower into the earth. There were many passages branching off, and I admit there was a part of me that would have loved nothing more than to explore each nook and cranny, until I gained an understanding of those who had built this place, so long ago.

I pushed those errant thoughts aside, for I had another, greater purpose for being here.

When we at last came to the deepest center of the caverns, I knew from the feral, fetid smell which greeted me that there were many of my kind gathered in this place. I was also greeted with low, threatening growls, and was soon surrounded by more than a dozen werewolves. Swiftrunner did not speak, merely held up a hand until all was quiet, the only sound the slow drip of water from some unknown source.

He looked at me then, as if daring me to justify my presence among them. As if he would soon remove his temporary protection and allow his pack to feast upon my flesh.

I was not afraid, for I knew what he did not. The form he saw now appeared gentle and weak, yet in the space of a breath I could be one of them, and stronger than them all. Unlike these pathetic creatures, with their mangy fur and their ribs showing through the pale skin of their bellies, I was strong, well-fed, and perhaps most importantly, of sound mind.

I walked into the center of the pack, and turned slowly, holding each one with my gaze. I let them see that I did not fear them, yet I made no threatening moves. The air in the cavern was hushed, expectant, as if at any moment some great miracle might occur.

I intended for that to be so.

After I was sure I gained their full attention, I spoke.

"You have lived long and suffered," I said, and bowed to the one who had led me here. "Swiftrunner, your leader, has allowed me to come among you, and for this, I thank him."

The brow of the great werewolf lifted, as if in surprise. Whatever he had expected, it had not been my deference to him.

"Together, we may find a means to lift the curse that binds you, and end the torment you endure," I continued. "Do you even know why you are who you are? Do you even remember that you were once human?"

"I remember," said Swiftrunner. "And that memory is the greatest torment of all."

* * *

**Chapter 8: Chapter 8**

* * *

The look of abject pain that crossed the great werewolf's face pierced my heart. Something stirred within me; some new emotion that diffused through my body with a warm expectancy. As much as I wished to, I could not explore this sensation in that moment. Yet it remained, even as I addressed the pack once again.

"Tell me," I gently requested. "If you remember being human, do you also know from whence this curse came upon you?"

Swiftrunner's body stiffened, and his eyes blazed with a terrible anger. "I was attacked," he said. "Three set upon me, and would surely have killed me there in my wheat field, if they had not been interrupted by a sudden, savage storm. Bolts of lightning set the field on fire, and they ran from me with their fur singed, yelping in pain. My human brothers found me, and called for a healer, but nothing could be done to cure me. The wounds of my flesh eventually healed, but those of my soul did not. After I nearly attacked one of my brothers, I knew what I had become." His voice had become gruff, filled with emotion. "To keep them safe, I left my home and my family, and hunted those who'd attacked me until they were all dead." He paused for a moment and scanned the gathered werewolves with sad eyes until his gaze rested upon a grey werewolf, taller than the rest. "It was Cloudbreaker who knew of Zathrian. He was born with the curse, a child of werewolves, and the knowledge has been passed from father to son for many long years. Together, we formed our pack, and we have tracked the leader of the Dalish relentlessly, yet he has always eluded us. Now, Zathrian has returned to the forest, and he will not escape our wrath." Swiftrunner spoke the last words with fierce determination.

My heart filled with pity; I simply stood quietly, holding his gaze so that he would know I understood him. At long last, I spoke. "This cycle of death and revenge must cease. If you truly wish to end this curse, you must first find the peace within yourselves."

Swiftrunner laughed, a harsh barking sound. "What do you know of our pain?" He shook his head. "No. Zathrian has come in search of a great wolf, one called Witherfang, whose heart will cure those of his tribe we have afflicted. We will not waste time on peace, when the villain is within our very grasp."

My throat constricted, and no words would pass my lips. Zathrian had come in search of  _me_ , and the sudden fear that filled me might have been my undoing, if not for the power of the Lady's love, which banished my terror almost as quickly as it had come upon me.

"I know your pain," I said, and though my voice remained gentle, there was a tensile strength to it that Swiftrunner could not deny. "Allow me to show you."

And before their astonished eyes, I transformed into the great white wolf that was my true nature. "I am Witherfang," I told them.

* * *

**Chapter 9: Chapter 9**

* * *

The snarls and howls that erupted upon my transformation filled the chamber, and echoed through the long, branching corridors of the caverns.

Swiftrunner, who was closest to me, inhaled sharply and bared his teeth. "A prayer finally answered," he growled and took a step toward me.

I knew the risk I had taken by revealing myself to the pack. Their lust for blood, and their desperation to end the wretched curse, made my decision dangerous, at best. Yet, such was the calm surety in my heart, and so strong was the Lady's love that permeated every fiber of my being, that even outnumbered and exposed, I did not fear them.

"Stand back, Swiftrunner," I demanded in my now deeper, feral voice. I caught his gaze and held it. "Perhaps I can not stand against so many, yet be assured that it is your throat that will feel the tear of my teeth should you choose to attack."

Swiftrunner, to his credit, held my gaze and did not look away, even with so many around us growling instigations, craving my blood - my very heart. Time became meaningless, and neither of us moved or spoke. I do not know what he saw in my eyes, though I hid nothing from him, but what I saw in his was a pain so deep, a regret so bitter, that there was no cure for it in all of Thedas. It was then that I knew, even should I succeed, that Swiftrunner could not be truly healed.

I could help him, if he would allow it, but I could not heal him.

Around us, agitated sounds of the pack continued, but they did not attack. Swiftrunner was clearly the alpha, and none would challenge his rule.

At last, he broke our long silence. "Beating within your breast is the boon that would lift the curse, and yet you expect us to deny this one chance to reclaim ourselves, and find peace as these beasts? As werewolves? Do you take us for fools?"

I chose that moment to transform back into the Lady. That he had not immediately attacked, and instead had engaged me with words, let me know that he would at least listen to my argument. If that were not true, we would already be locked in a deathly combat.

Swiftrunner's eyes narrowed at the change, but he yet waited for my answer.

"There are many paths that diverge from this point," I said. "Yes, you could bring my heart to Zathrian and hope you would find salvation instead of betrayal. Or, you could continue to hunt the Dalish, killing and converting them as you have done, until you force Zathrian's hand." Now I moved, taking those few last steps between us. Slowly, I lifted my hand, and though I saw him shiver slightly, he did not back away. The pale skin beneath my palm was warm, and the beat of his own heart was strong under my touch. "Or, together, we could find that strength that only comes with peace, with acceptance... with love. And together, we might find a way to end the curse with no more death... no more loss."

Switfunner backed away from me then. I had disturbed him with my touch, this much was clear. With one simple gesture of his clawed hand, the pack gathered behind him. "Be glad you escaped this day with your life, Lady," he said. "If you see us again, the same will not be true."

With that, he moved more quickly than I would have believed, and the pack followed him out through the tunnel from which we had entered.

Though I had not won him yet, neither had I lost.

* * *

**Chapter 10: Chapter 10**

* * *

I prowled the forest in the form of Witherfang, each of my senses alert to Swiftrunner and his pack. Yes, it was a dangerous game I played, because just as I was hunting Swiftrunner, I now knew the Dalish were hunting me.

I had no fear of the elves, but should Zathrian himself come for me, I knew not how I would stand against his power. Yet, the Dalish Keeper remained hidden within his clan, perhaps as unsure as I, what such a meeting would bring.

Swiftrunner remained aware of me, this much I knew. Several times, my timely intervention prevented the werewolves from attacking the elves, but at other times, I came too late. Many of the Dalish were slain, yet none too few were infected with the curse, and the pack began to swell in number.

The mooned had waned, until it had disappeared from the night sky, before I met with Swiftrunner again. The dark moon time is filled with a mystery, one which cannot be named. Nature's power is strong when only the stars grace the heavens, just as it as is when her full, bright face graces the woods with her magical light.

I came upon Swiftrunner alone, immersed in a cold, running stream not far from the caves, washing the blood and gore from his beautiful pelt. The wolf in me responded to his power and strength, yet as the Lady, I also felt the deep stirrings of compassion, and... attraction. This surprised me, because in all the long years since the curse had been laid upon me, my instincts to mate had not manifested.

I was, however, confident that he would not attack me, even though I saw his hackles rise with my approach. Did he feel it too? I wondered. That deep need to join with another?

"Did you not heed my warning?" he growled. "You have your answer, now leave with your life while you can."

I was certain that if he'd meant to fight, he would have spared me no words. I replied with a question of my own. "Why do you choose suffering, Swiftrunner, when you may find peace, instead?"

"Peace," he spat the word derisively. "Peace will not restore to me all that I have lost. Peace will not make Zathrian pay for his crimes against us." He stepped from the water and his coat glistened in the soft starlight as the water sluiced from his fur. "I see no justice in peace."

I stepped nearer until we were only an arm's length apart. "The true struggle is within you, Swiftrunner. The fire burns inside you, until your heart is in ashes. But from those embers, new life can be born. Your soul can be renewed through love's power."

When he remained silent, and made no move against me, I pushed him just a little more. "I can show you," I said. "If you will allow me."

He bared his teeth, but did not reply for long moments. I waited, my body as still as the night around us, until finally he asked, though his voice was filled with suspicion, "What would you show me?"

I smiled softly, allowing all the love inside me to shine through my eyes, and heard Swiftrunner quickly inhale. Slowly, and with great care, I closed the distance between us, ever watching him for a return of his aggression.

When at last we were face to face, I tilted my head up to capture his gaze with my own, and lifted my arms to rest lightly on his shoulders. When he did not resist, I pulled myself closer to him, and rested my body gently against his, pouring all of my power, my love, into him.

Swiftrunner stood still as stone, his breath raggedly moving in and out through his nose. At last, he asked, "Is this some kind of magic?"

I pulled away, just enough to look up at him, and replied, "It is magic, yes, but not of the Fade. It is the magic of Nature herself. It is love."

In his eyes, confusion warred with curiosity. I pushed him no further, and when he moved away from me, I did nothing to prevent it.

"I must go," was all he said before moving off into the inky night.

I remained where I was and watched him leave, a smile in my heart.

I had gained my first bit of ground.

* * *

And so, for many weeks, I played this game with Swiftrunner. He would greet me with a surly refusal, but in the end, was unable to reject the solace I offered. Each time I approached him, it seemed to me that he was eager for my gentle touch, though he did his best to hide his anticipation.

I remembered all too well what comfort the Lady had brought me in my deepest hours of despair, and now, one with her, I could offer the same to Swiftrunner's suffering soul. The empathy, the compassion, even the gratitude I felt were all expected and welcomed. Yet, with each tentative embrace, there was also the unexpected rising within me of a desire for him to return my touch. To receive from him, instead of only to give. I knew this was not my true path, to fall in love, or even to want him. But such is the mystery of life - we are all too often dealt the unexpected and must somehow find our way.

It had been so long since the Lady and I had been apart, I was surprised to feel the stirring inside that meant we were to separate. It was a misty, cool morning and I awoke from dreams of Swiftrunner to feel her pulling away from me.

Now, in my wolf form once again, I gazed upon her as if with new eyes. Suddenly I saw and felt what Swiftrunner felt when I came to him in  _her_  beloved form. She embodied everything that was wild and free, as well as loving and pure. I did not have to ask her why she had done this thing, because within the space of several heartbeats, she had knelt before me and gathered me into her arms.

"My sweet Witherfang," she told me. "Do not allow what you feel for Swiftrunner to become a thing of regret. Embrace all that you heart feels. Do not deny what is beautiful and true."

I did not reply, but instead merely accepted the comfort she offered me. When at last she moved away and looked down at me with her kind regard, I stood and bowed my head. Within moments, we were once again as one, and the path before me was clear.

* * *

**Chapter 11: Chapter 11**

* * *

It is in the season of spring that we feel most alive.

As the oak and birch dressed themselves in their mantles of green, and as the woodlands filled once again with newborn babes, blossoms overspilling and gentle soaking rains, I was stronger than I had ever been. The forest was my very soul, and its burgeoning growth filled me with renewed vitality and purpose. This strong connection, and the power which filled me, would be much needed in the coming days, as I was soon to find out.

Although Swiftrunner's acceptance of my presence had continued to increase, he had not yet invited me back among his pack. It was his free-will choice for which I waited, and I would not pressure him, or insist. For a time, it was enough that he accepted what solace I could offer him.

The permanence of his own pain was a blinding force, one that did not allow him to see that I could be more than a temporary comfort. I could also help those who were not so deeply scarred regain their true natures, and heal their damaged souls.

If only he would allow it.

None of the other werewolves dared approach me, even though I often saw them moving through the forest, and once or twice became aware that they were watching me. I was sure this was Swiftrunner's doing, yet I stayed my course. I had offered myself freely and without condition, and could only wait.

In the end, it was fate that intervened. The complex patterns of life that may seem random, are in actuality filled with purpose and meaning, though we often cannot see that fundamental truth. It was only because I was joined with the Lady that I had attained this awareness, and could see more clearly, more deeply than most.

I had awakened in the predawn light, knowing I was needed. My heart racing, and my limbs tingling with pins and needles as I ran through the forest in my wolf form, knowing that each second which passed was never to be regained if I were too late. Understand me, I did not know the nature of why I was needed, only that I must find Swiftrunner before the dawn broke.

The horrible truth became clear as I entered the small glade, and saw four of Swiftrunner's pack kneeling over a prostrate form on the ground. The scent of blood was acrid, coppery, and I could feel the restraint of the pack, denying themselves the frenzy that so much blood would cause within them.

When I approached, it was as the Lady, knowing that as a great, white wolf, I would only provoke them further.

Even so, growls and snarls filled the small fen as I came near, yet they did not move against me. In fact, a space was made for me to join them.

"How did this happen?" I asked, as I, too, kneeled. My stomach dropped upon seeing the long gashes and deep puncture wounds which oozed Swiftrunner's precious lifeblood. His breathing was ragged, shallow, and a small trickle of crimson blood dripped onto his matted fur from his slightly opened muzzle. Death hovered around us, waiting to claim its prize.

Why had Swiftrunner put himself in a situation that caused his life to be nearly lost? Was this how fate had intervened? Even when we are not aware, our hearts and souls still respond to the urgings of Existence. Call that force what you will - The Maker, The Creators, Nature - it matters not. Names only have the power we bestow upon them. True power is forever nameless, and only known through  _love_.

In a voice that was more wolf than human, Cloudbreaker, the grey one, replied, "He was caught alone. A Dalish hunting party..." He set his intense gaze upon me, and I felt his fear to my core. "Can you save him?"

Yes, fate. That prompting that caused Swiftrunner to attack the Dalish without his pack. I could not ask him why he had done so, unless I could save him. Yet deep in my heart, the truth was already there. How did I know that he had been searching for me? I cannot tell you other than to say I knew I was meant to save these poor, benighted souls. It was the blessing that balanced Zathrian's curse. Nature knows no other way than to balance the dark with the light.

I am no mage, and have no connection to the Fade, yet Nature has her own healing powers.

I returned Cloudbreaker's steady gaze and said, "Here is what we must do..."

* * *

_Thank you Fenzev, once again :)_

* * *

**Chapter 12: Chapter 12**

* * *

Fortune smiled upon Swiftrunner that day. Among his pack was a female who was once a cottage-healer, before she'd succumbed to the curse. When I told the pack I needed elfroot and spindleweed, yarrow and calendula, Dawnbringer stepped forward.

"I know these herbs," she said.

"Fly fast," I told her, "There is not much time."

Several of the others went with her, because none were safe to venture out alone. The Dalish were becoming ever more aggressive in the hunt, and Swiftrunner was not the only one running out of time.

"Cloudbreaker," I called. "Stand guard, and let none disturb my work."

The grey wolf nodded and gestured to several of his packmates, before moving off under the trees. I was grateful that each took my instruction without qualm or complaint.

I knew the first thing I must do was keep Swiftrunner's spirit from leaving his dying body. I set my hands upon either side of his jaw, and called to him, softly but insistently. "Hear me, Swiftrunner. It is your Lady calling you."

His pulse under my hands was weak, and I feared he had already lost too much blood. "Swiftrunner," I called again, and this time he opened his eyes as best he could. "Hold my gaze," I said. "Stay with me."

Some say that the eyes are the windows to the soul, and perhaps it is true. In that moment, I bound Swiftrunner to me, and held his spirit fast to mine as I set to work. I would need the herbs to heal his body's wounds, but there was much I could do simply with Nature's power.

With my breath and my will and my love, I reached out into the very lifeforce of the forest and filled my being with its power. An incandescent light began to shine along my skin, and ripple softly in all the hues of the woodland across the surface of my body. My gaze still locked with Swiftrunner's, I poured that raw energy through my hands and into his battered and mangled body.

Before long, the light enveloped us both, and a part of my awareness heard the indrawn breaths and low growls of the other werewolves. Yet, I did not allow anything to divert my focus from channeling the life back into my charge.

Clarity first returned to Swiftrunner's eyes, and along with the strengthening pulse under my fingers, I knew Nature's own healing magic was bringing him back from the very brink of death. I also knew that this act of power would leave me in a much weakened state, and could not but hope that Dawnbringer would soon return with the herbs.

How much time passed, I do know know, but is was as if my thoughts had called the she-wolf to me. I sensed movement from behind, and could smell the pungent aroma of the healing plants she'd brought to me.

With the last of my strength, I told her to pack his wounds with the yarrow and calendula, and have him chew the elfroot and spindleweed, but not to swallow the plant matter.

Then, for a time, I knew no more.

* * *

I awakened to flickering firelight.

The first thing I saw was the high ceiling of a cave, adorned with majestic stalactites reflecting the orange/red glow of the flames. I turned my head, and next to me lay Swiftrunner, his wounds covered in herbs, but his breath even and peaceful as he slept.

My heart lifted.

As I slowly rose, Cloudbreaker and Dawnbringer came to my side.

"Are you well, Lady?" asked Dawnbringer, her polite words such a change from the previous wary suspicion the werewolves had shown me.

"Yes, I am well," I replied. They had brought me back to the caverns, and laid me next to Swiftrunner on a pallet of sweet smelling straw. I rose to my feet. "Thank you for your kindness and care."

It was Cloudbreaker who replied. "We could do no less for the one who save Swiftrunner's life."

I glanced down upon their leader's sleeping form and then nodded. "Yes, he will live. He now needs only time and rest."

And so it was that I came to live among the pack. From that day forward, I never left them.

* * *

As had become the custom, it was in the Lady's form that I lived and worked among the werewolf pack. There were times, occasionally, when I was forced to fight, and became Witherfang once again. Yet those times were few and far between.

I had not come among them to bolster them in battle. I had come to teach them of peace.

After so long living in savage brutality, these beautiful, sentient creatures began to respond to the kindness and affection I showered upon them. The process was gradual, and I did not push them beyond their comfort, but over many weeks the change became obvious. Small huffs of approval greeted me, instead of low, warning growls. Their eyes followed me, not with suspicion, but with interest. I made no grandiose speeches, nor did I censure or judge my new family. I only acted according to my true self, which was the heart and soul of nature.

In the natural world, nothing is ever wasted. Cruelty does not exist as it does in the cultures of the humanoid ones. There is only need and necessity, nurturing and playfulness throughout the long cycles of birth, growth, ripening, decay and death. All living things are bound to that cycle.

In many ways, that was the true evil of what Zathrian had done. He had corrupted Nature's very  _being_ , by stealing for himself what belonged to all who lived. Immortality is as much an abomination as are those demons who ravage the souls and bodies of unwary mages. I knew Zathrian's curse must end, but had not yet found the means. The Dalish ignored our pleas for parlay, and hunted us mercilessly.

Yet, the true focus I held for this time was my growing bond with Swiftrunner. Even though I knew that only his life's ending would release him from his pain, I also knew he was eased by my presence. Since I had healed him, we had become inseparable. And although he often argued my stance, it was always with respect and intelligence. In fact, the longer I was among the pack, the keener their minds grew. More and more, their bestial thoughts gave way to the deep seed of their original selves, still living inside them.

One evening, as we were preparing to retire, Swiftrunner gently gripped my shoulder with his long fingers. "I would talk with you," he told me. "Alone."

I nodded my agreement, and together we moved deeper into the ruins, following the green glow of the phosphorescent moss that grew in the crevices of the stone walls. His calloused hand grasped mine to help me cross a swiftly running underground stream, and when once we were on the other side, he did not release me.

At last we came to a small cavern, which must have once been a storage area, from the many rotting crates and barrels lined against the stone walls, and Swiftrunner stopped and turned to face me. For long moments, I stood there under the intensity of his gaze, my mind and heart clear and open, simply waiting.

When he finally spoke, what he said to me changed everything.

* * *

**Chapter 13: Chapter 13**

* * *

"I saw you," said Swiftrunner, his voice a low growl. "What you are…"

I need not ask what he meant. We had met, soul to soul. I had bound him to life, even as death had hovered over him, waiting to claim its prize. He had seen my wild heart, and the vast well of existence within me, which was the life of the forest itself. I made him no answer, yet the sudden brightness in his eyes, the increased pace of his breath, showed me that he knew I understood him.

"Lady," he entreated. "I beg you… you have pierced my heart. I can find no peace without you."

I lifted my hand, and caressed his face, trailing my fingers, long and graceful like the slender branches of a birch in winter, up to his ear, where they dug into his thick fur.

"What would you have of me, dearest Swiftrunner?" I asked him.

His eyes closed under my tender ministrations, and a low, plaintive moan arose from his throat.

When at last his eyes opened, they were moist with unshed tears. "I would be human again," he said. "I would have us both be human, so that I might spend the rest of my life proving my love for you." He paused, and his next words carried all the weight of his anguish. "Lady, can you love me? Can you love this broken and damaged soul?"

I had known the truth of his heart since our souls had intertwined. Beneath the ravaging pain, lay a well of love and passion so deep, I could not see its ending. That I had touched that place inside his pain was what had bound him to me... and I, to him.

My words were gentle, yet insistent. "My love," I said. "Fate's hand has been cruel, indeed. But do not despair. As long as we both yet live, we shall not be parted. The heart of Witherfang and the soul of the Lady are yours."

His strong arms embraced me and lifted me to him. He buried his muzzle against my throat and his warm breath on my skin flamed the heat within my own breast.

Although this was all we could give to each other, this comfort in the midst of so much tragedy, it was more than I'd ever thought possible.

* * *

The weeks passed swiftly. The days we spent fortifying our refuge against the increase attacks of the Dalish. The nights I spent in Swiftrunner's arms, finding what comfort we could. By the time Gatekeeper arrived with his warning, the caverns had been armed with many protections, both magical and mundane.

We had been heavily relying on the stealth and keen instincts of Gatekeeper to keep watch for us, and when he returned, out of breath and clearly anxious, all eyes turned to him.

"Lady," said Gatekeeper, a tremor in his voice. "I come with grave tidings."

"Be calm, Gatekeeper," I told him. "What has happened?"

"Intruders have penetrated the very heart of the forest," he said, still clearly agitated despite my soothings.

Behind me, I heard Swiftrunner's sudden intake of breath. I held out my hand, which he grasped tightly.

"Who are the intruders?" I asked him. "Be they Dalish?"

"No, Lady," he responded. "They appear to be human, and well-armored."

"Did these humans attack you?" I asked, wondering what new challenge we now faced.

Gatekeeper shook his large head. "No, Lady. As you have taught us, we did not confront them, and they made no move when we fled."

"You have done well, Gatekeeper," I said. I could see the troubled expression that remained in his eyes. He had not told me all that he knew. "What else did you learn?"

"The humans were sent by Zathrian," he told me carefully. "To cut out the heart of Witherfang and return it to him."

Witherfang's heart would cure the cursed ones among the Dalish tribe, which was, in part, the reason I rarely took my wolf form. Before I could respond, however, a long howl broke from Swiftrunner's throat, and was soon joined by the rest of the pack, filling the caverns with the echoes of their rage and pain.

"They will not have you!" Swiftrunner growled, as the howling continued around us. "We will slaughter them all to protect you!"

I laid my hands on his chest. "Peace, Swiftrunner," I said. "Peace will end this."

It took him several moments, but he brought himself back under control. The howling faded slowly, as all attention turned toward us.

"Lady," he said, and laid his hands over mine. "If they should win through…"

"Extend peace, Swiftrunner," I said. "Offer the intruders parlay. Perhaps these mortals may accomplish what we have not, and bring Zathrian to us."

"To what purpose? Peace will not end the curse," he replied. "Only Zathrian's death will do so."

 _Or my wolf's heart_ , I thought, but did not speak the words, because that truth was already known. "There is yet another way," was all I told him. "You must trust me, as you have done."

"I will not lose you, Lady," he said, though I saw the truth in his eyes.

To end the suffering of so many, Zathrian would have to be convinced to sacrifice his immortality, and give up his long extended life. And with Zathrian's ending, all that he had created would end as well.

Including me.

* * *

**Chapter 14: Chapter 14**

* * *

Night had fallen by the time Swiftrunner returned to us. He was unharmed, yet his wild eyes revealed the strain he was under.

"They come," were his only words.

I nodded, and felt only the second thrill of fear in my breast since the day I had first joined with the Lady. The first had been upon seeing Swiftrunner's lifeblood soaking into the earth.

It had been arranged that I would not reveal myself, at first. Swiftrunner would greet the intruders in my stead, so I might take their measure before confronting them.

We could hear the sounds of battle grow louder as they drew more deeply into the caverns. That they could win through our protections spoke much of the strength and courage of these newcomers.

When finally they arrived in our den, the intruders were thus:

A woman, slender as a willow wand, but whose mossy green eyes held the wisdom of the most ancient oak. The staff gripped in her hands proclaimed her a Mage, and her bearing as their leader.

A warrior, tall and strong. A handsome man, with an open heart and humble nature.

Another woman, her red hair so bright, it appeared to contain living flames. From my hidden position, I saw that she was the only one to offer Swiftrunner a tentative smile, even though each of her hands held wickedly sharp daggers.

The last female stood well back from her companions. She, too, appeared human, but there was something, some unnamable essence that was different from the others. Although I could sense the magic of the Fade upon her, there was also a much more familiar magic about her. My curiosity was aroused, but I held myself back, much the same as she did.

Swiftrunner, though his effort was great to retain control, could hardly do more than roar at them, and the other werewolves joined in him their turn. I knew I must intervene, and therefore slowly approached him from behind. Swiftrunner shivered under my gentle touch, and his aggression calmed, bent down on one knee and bowed his head.

I turned to the humans.

"I bid you welcome, mortals, I am the Lady of the Forest," said I.

"I am Solona Amell," said their leader with a slight bow. "I have come to speak with you, not to fight."

"That is well," I replied. "For there has been too much bloodshed. I would see it end."

Together, we spoke for a long while, occasionally interrupted when Swiftrunner became agitated at any mention of Zathrian. I discovered many things during our speech; that this mage was a Warden, only one of two, intent on ending the Blight that plagued all the land. That she sought the help of all the free peoples, and that Zathrian had withheld his aid unless he was brought the heart of Witherfang.

It was then that I showed her myself as the great white wolf, despite protests from my love. He stood before me, shouting, "You shall not harm Witherfang!"

It was a needless protest, as the mortals made no move against us, though their surprise and shock were apparent on their faces. Before long, I returned to the form of the Lady, and eventually we came to consensus. The Warden would persuade Zathrian to return with her in parlay, and give me the chance to convince him to end the curse in the only way that would save the lives of both elves and werewolves alike.

He must give up his immortality.

* * *

I spent those long hours of waiting alone with Swiftrunner, as the rest of the pack stood guard.

"Lady," he pleaded. "Tell me, is there no other way?"

"If the curse is to be lifted, and the suffering to end, it must be," I told him softly, as I stroked the soft fur of his neck.

"To lose you…" he said, and tears spilled from his eyes. "I do not think I will survive our parting."

Unlooked for anger arose in my breast. I dug my slender, twig fingers more deeply into his pelt, and shook him. "You must," I insisted. "You must go on, for I will yet live in your heart."

He looked at me, his wet eyes filled with anguish. "What matter if I am human again, without you? What matters life without you?"

I crawled into his lap and pressed my face against his. "My love, do you not understand?" I whispered. "We will never be parted. I will be in each blade of grass under your foot. I will enter your mind and heart with the song of the morning thrush. When the north wind blows your hair, it will be my caress. My sweet Swiftrunner, there is no force in all of existence that can sunder our love."

He was silent then, his arms wound tightly about me, and we waited.

Zathrian returned sooner than I had expected, his words filled with trickery and deceit, but I had not misjudged the young Warden. True to her word, she was not swayed by his attempts to coerce and manipulate the mortals. Eventually his anger and fear grew to such heights, he lost control of himself and attacked not only the pack, but the Warden and her companions, as well.

We, all of us, were paralyzed by the power of Zathrian's immortal magic, as possessed forest spirits were summoned by the elven mage. For brief moments, I feared that we would all perish, human and werewolf alike. Until, that was, the tall, kind-hearted warrior let forth a burst of cleansing light that freed us from our unnatural prison.

Hence, it was not long before Zathrian was subdued and his spirits vanquished. After so long holding onto his need for revenge, the Keeper of the Dalish began to listen to reason. My words and pleas for Mercy shamed him, and penetrated the hatred than had consumed his soul for so long.

He relented. Zathrian began the ritual.

It is no easy task to describe the power than was unleashed as Zathrian chanted the ancient words to reverse the curse, spilling his blood once again, as he had done in the beginning. I turned to Swiftrunner, sure that my ending was near when I saw Zathrian fall.

We embraced for the last time, and as I pulled away to look into his beloved eyes, I saw his features slide and shift, as his transformation began. My sweet Swiftrunner became human before my eyes, and without hesitation, he pressed his lips to mine in our first true kiss. I parted my lips for him, even as I felt my own form consumed with a terrible heat, and a shattering light overtook my senses. It was the last thing I felt, his mouth claiming mine. The sweetest moment of my life as the Lady, as Witherfang.

How could I regret the joy I had found in my existence, my life? The pain of Swiftrunner's loss would never leave me, but worse still would have been to never have known him at all.

To never have loved him.

My grief became part of my  _self_ , and perhaps that is why, though I lost everything else, I kept my memories of what had once been.

When you hear the mournful song of the dove, or the piercing cry of the falcon, I am there.

When you see the mist hanging over the river, or the swift sunrise at dawn, I am there.

When you feel the sting of rain on your skin, or the cold chill of the first frost... remember me.

_For I have been with you always, and will never leave you until the end of all time._

_**THE END** _

* * *

A/N Thank you to all who have read and reviewed. I hope you enjoyed reading this little tale as much as I loved writing it. Thank you also to the Lady, who lives in my heart.

_All that we see or seem, is but a dream within a dream._ _Edgar Allan Poe_


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